


Another interrupted dinner

by Beltiel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, POV John Watson, Sherlock Holmes Returns after Reichenbach, Trailer/Teaser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beltiel/pseuds/Beltiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on John's POV from the Aug 2, 2013 teaser trailer for Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another interrupted dinner

The restaurant hummed with the politely murmured conversations of its wealthy patrons. The occasional clink of silverware brushing against fine china the only break in the monotonous sound. Doctor John Watson sniffed slightly, the recently acquired whiskers under his nose tickling at him. He rather detested the mustache, but his latest female companion had insisted that he grow one out for her pleasure. Her taste in fine dining (another pleasure) was surely going to break the doctors bank soon, but he couldn't fault the cause; a fourth date, which was practically a record for the man who suffered chronic bachelorship. His dining companion chattered on about her darling Froofy (a pet that John still hadn't determined was a dog or cat, and felt he was far too deep in it to ask now) when some movement by the door caught his eye. 

Most of the male patrons had slowly walked in, their pace slowed by the accompanying women who minced along in the current style of heels. The prospective diner that caught Johns attention though, had taken long, confident strides into the room. Johns eyes traveled from the mans shoes (fine leather, likely custom) up the long lines of his body, sliding over the charcoal suit (again, tailored to fit) to rest on the mans face. John blinked once, his mind having come to an immediate screeching halt. The doctors face showed no emotion; a sharp intake of breath that was too quiet for his dining companion to note was the only outward sign he gave of recognition. John watched, hypnotized, as his flat mate and best friend (dead now these three years) paused in the middle of the restaurant. The consulting detective looked him straight in the eye, and with a click of his tongue and a saucy wink, turned and strode out of the restaurant, with a flourish that only a Holmes could manage.

A few seconds passed before John was able to move again, and he noticed that his hands had clenched into tight fists around the table cloth. His date rambled on, oblivious to Johns crisis. Closing his eyes tight, John quickly debated with himself his next course of action. Could that have really been Sherlock? No, surely not. He was dead in the ground, a small part of him insisted. The other voice of his conscience, a much stronger part, demanded that he follow the man to find out. Because wouldn't that be just like him, just like Sherlock, always so obtuse and stubborn, to refuse to die? To thwart death? 

It wouldn't be the first time he thought he'd spotted Sherlock in a crowd, and had ruthlessly chased down some poor stranger. And it probably wouldn't be the last; in what possible scenario could John ever _not_ seek him out? Even the faintest possibility? Muttering a pathetic and hasty excuse to Sheryl/Shannon/Stacy (oh what would it matter now?), John leapt up from his chair and bolted after the man who could be Sherlock. 

He left in his wake an upset woman, a confused waiter, and a walking cane, hanging carefully from the Doctors empty chair.


End file.
